


whip it (into shape)

by newsbians



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken, Whip It (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roller Derby, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, M/M, OOC probably at this point, lots of swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:53:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28244214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newsbians/pseuds/newsbians
Summary: “Roller derby?” Davey questioned as he grabbed at the paper.Falling in love is the last thing on anyone's mind.
Relationships: David Jacobs/Jack Kelly, Sarah Jacobs/Katherine Plumber Pulitzer, Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 11
Kudos: 19





	1. get forward! get straight!

**Author's Note:**

> for this world to work, you must accept three things:
> 
> 1\. roller derby has men and women on the same team competing in the same capacity  
> 2\. katherine and pulitzer are not father and daughter  
> 3\. some of the newsies have lowk vulgar derby names, so when characters call each other "tits" or "bitch" it's out of love
> 
> as jack says, amen and all that shit. let's get this show on the road.

“Watch your shit, Bee!”

There was a split second where Katherine considered throwing her hip at Smalls as the girl whizzed past, before she remembered the third Holy Commandment of roller derby:  _ Thou shalt not take hits personally nor give hits revengefully. _ Smalls was as decent as jammers came, and she would hate to lose a teammate to her unfortunate temper, so Katherine brushed it off and slammed the stopper of her skate into the girl who was giving some incessant tail. The crowd roared as she skated past the ring, letting her know that the risky move had not only been successful in getting the girl off her back but also in flying past the referee’s ruling. Sure, Katherine was damn good at the game, but that meant knowing when to play a little dirty. 

Racetrack Higgins’ voice practically shook the warehouse as he announced the final call of the game: “And just like that, Tits and Smash takes the lead and  _ completely _ demolishes the Fight Attendants!” Smalls did one of her ice skating twirls, the little jump and glide thing that always sent the crowd into a tailspin- she was practically glowing from all the attention. Skating down into the middle of the rink, Katherine knocked her helmet against Jack’s as Crutchie barreled over and lifted Smalls off the floor in triumph. “For those who haven’t been studying up on your roller derby rights, that brings Knuckles of New York to the third bracket within this here Manhattan league,” Racetrack crowed into his beloved microphone. “Friday night’s game will bring our reigning champs, the Wicked World, against the Hissin’ Kittens. Be here or live in fear!” 

The team groaned in collective good nature at Race’s attempted play on words and went over to high-five the other team of skanky “fight” attendants on wheels. The especially strong fist bump and evil eye Katherine received from the girl wearing bright blue lipstick told her exactly who had been on the receiving end of her  _ technically _ illegal move, so she hustled ass out of the line to meet Crutchie. “Okay, gang.” He began, flipping through pages on a clipboard. “That was good. Really good! But Irish”- Spot lightly rolled his eyes- “You had no fucking clue what was happening on that third lap. And I saw Tits almost throw you over, Bee. I see ev-rrrry-thing.”

“You’re our all-knowing God, Crutch,” Jack ruffled the smaller boy’s hair. “But the day The Notorious B.I.T.C.H admits she did anything wrong is the day your confusing reign in hell is over.” Katherine flipped him the bird with her sweetest smile, the bright red polish gleaming under the warehouse fluorescents. “Please remember that we have fall-league auditions next Thursday to replace our dearly beloved and sorely departed One Eyed Wonder, Blink whatever-his-last-name-was.” Jack stopped his grandiose speech short. “Did anyone even know his first name?” After a few dissenting murmurs, he soldiered on. “Anyways, he skipped fuckin’ town on us with Mush and we need two new people, so show up on time or Crutch will smite you to the ground. Amen, and all that shit.” 

The team rolled back to their changing room, a chain link metal cage with a few sorry excuses for shelves nailed to the wall, and Smalls pulled up beside Katherine to grab their street clothes. “Bee, I’m real sorry about all that. I woulda cross-checked you to hell if you had tried it.” 

“And that’s what makes me such an amazing person,” Katherine pondered. “But know that I thought about it, so that kinda kills off my good people points. Buy me a beer, and we’re even.” An enthusiastic  _ clack! _ of their helmets sealed the peace treaty, and Smalls let out a loud whoop that resounded around the small room. 

_ “First place, bitchessss!” _

&&&

Davey Jacobs was, by nature, a very nervous person. If he really dug deep into his psyche to figure out why, it probably began with his mother’s incessant warning to hold her hand as they crossed the street, walked in the grocery store, or just about anything else. (“Strangers like good little boys like you,  _ bubeleh.”) _ That was probably also the reason he hated holding Jenny Hasmash’s hand at the school dance in tenth grade, but her sweaty palm didn’t turn him  _ gay _ or anything-  _ Oh God, did it turn him gay? Stranger danger made him gay? _

So, yeah. Davey Jacobs was kind of a nervous person. 

His sister, Sarah “There’s that pink-haired bitch” Jacobs, was decidedly not. Sarah lived and died by the rules of life she had collected from various grimy corners of Brooklyn bars and the backs of video stores, where they sold the soft-core porn and weed to minors. Not that Sarah was a particularly bad person by any means, she was probably one of the best people Davey had the honor of knowing, it’s just that when Davey internalized their mother’s overprotection, Sarah blew everything  _ out. _ It worked for both of them in their own, special ways.

That’s why, when they ended up at the same private arts university, everyone was pretty surprised. Both of them got decent grades (Davey was, albeit, a tad bit better at traditional learning. Sarah insisted she was just “getting an education in life, Davey!”) and knew they would either have to attend college or suffocate under their parent’s rule, so they crafted a careful plan to run down to the big city, three and a half hours away from the suburbs, and land themselves smack in the middle of Manhattan. 

That was the thing about being a twin, really. You couldn’t live without the other, no matter how much you fought over who’s playlist goes on in the car or which one had to explain to their parents that they were both going to be fine arts majors. Davey and Sarah were always going to be DaveyandSarah. 

Which made trying to haul Sarah off of his dinky, either-your-legs-hang-off-or-your-head-hits-the-wall dorm bed all the more difficult. “Good God, woman,” Davey groaned. “I’ve got a midterm in seventy-eight hours that will cost me an ear, probably, if I fail. Do you want that? A Vincent Van Gogh brother?” 

Her head disappeared underneath the mound of his pillows. “Yeah, actually. That’d be sick. All those stuffy-ass art majors would be hella jealous.” Davey was disappointed Sarah couldn’t see his majestic flipping-off he was currently delivering with her head stuck under his bedding. 

“What will it take for you to quit it? I’ve got seventy cents in my bank account and forty more credits on my food hall card.” He could hear the gears turning in her head- she  _ loved _ the soft serve cones from the A-I dining hall. 

Sarah sat up like she had a brilliant idea and proceeded to scrounge around in her pockets for a minute. She held up a flyer like it was precious treasure, even though it was bent at all angles and clearly torn from the staple on a telephone pole. “Ta-daaaa,” she wiggled her shoulders. “Come to this with me on Friday-  _ after your final- _ and I’ll call it a day!” 

“Roller derby?” Davey questioned as he grabbed the paper. 

_ BRAINS, BRAWN, AND CHICKS ON SKATES: COME DOWN TO THE DAISY LOUNGE ON OCTOBER 24th AT 8PM FOR A CLASH OF THE CLANS. WICKED WORLD VS. HISSIN’ KITTENS. _

The flyer was clearly done hastily in photoshop, the text  _ (In comic sans, _ Davey grimaced) was pasted over a picture of a young man bent over some railing while skaters whizzed past him, frozen in time. The guy in the picture was flipping the camera off while a huge smile was pasted onto his face- also, he was kind of cute. “Seems like the place I’d catch an STD,” he wrinkled his nose. 

“Only if you put yourself in a situation to catch one, dear brother,” sang Sarah. “It’ll be fun. You haven’t gone out since like, we got here-”

“That frat guy puked on my shoes!”

“And? Circle of life. Time for you to toss on someone else’s shoes.”

Davey rolled his eyes. “Cold day in hell.” 

“You  _ know _ it sounds sick, Davey. You have to come!” He hated when she was right, especially about him and his innermost thoughts. Twin telepathy wasn’t technically real, but they swore that they could translate some feelings ideas and if they tried hard enough. 

Davey gave it exactly four more seconds of thought before he decided. “You’re not gonna drink,” he started ticking off his fingers, “and no pot, either. We’ll be home by two, both of us, and I’m driving. I’ll sew the keys into the lining of my pockets if I have to.” 

Despite the rules, she was pleased that he even agreed to her plan, he could tell by the way her nose twitched to keep a smile concealed. “Gee, didn’t know you brought Mom in your suitcase.” Sarah flopped out of his bed and started to walk out the door when she stopped herself short. “Do you think I’d be any good at roller derby?” 

Davey looked at his technically older sister (by two and a half minutes) and saw the stick and poke of a dagger on her ankle, her waist-length hair dyed a bubblegum pink, and the bleach blonde eyebrows. He thought of the time she held him in a headlock until he stopped crying over the ending of a book he had just finished, or when she decked Jenny Hasmash for calling Davey a  _ queer _ while walking to English. “Cold day in hell,” he replied, then shut the door in her face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i watched whip it and then immediately screamed why has no one ever done a newsies roller derby au so i am DOING it  
> um so yes leave me a comment and i'll hip check jeremy jordan for you??? i guess???  
> follow me on tumblr @/deafwestnewsies


	2. go forward! move ahead!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarah and Davey go watch some roller derby, Race wears an insult-to-fashion hat, and Katherine and Jack play the recruiter role.

Two girls were comparing nipple piercings in front of them, and Sarah was about four seconds away from joining in.  _ “You don’t even  _ have _ a nipple ring,” _ Davey hissed as he dragged her away with a firm grip on her bicep. 

“You  _ literally _ don’t know that,” Sarah rolled her eyes. “I kept the cartilage a secret for seven months before Papa even noticed, and I still blame Les for ratting me out.” 

The entrance to the Daisy Lounge was already attracting a crowd that spilled out into the shallow depths of the grimy street where Davey and Sarah stood. He clutched the car keys tighter in his grip from the paranoia that some street rat was going to run up and try to steal the 1998 Honda Civic- it was bright red, falling apart at the seams, and the absolute light of the Jacobs twins life. It helped him avoid public transit, and it helped Sarah have a makeout spot that wouldn’t violate her staunchly Presbyterian roommate. 

“Okay, fair, but if you have one of _ those-” _ Davey firmly avoided her eye contact, “I am completely content to live the rest of my life in the dark. In fact, let’s make a pact right now: If we ever get a nipple piercing, the other will never,  _ ever _ have to know about it.” 

Sarah peaked her eyebrow, eyes lit up with fascination.  _ “We?” _ She emphasized. “If you  _ ever _ stick a needle through any part of your body, I want to be the hand you’re squeezing while it happens!” 

His reply was suddenly cut off by a large roar from within the depths of the cavernous opening, enticed by a few choice words from a voice that reverberated around the building. Sarah pulled him along, dropping the slightly uncomfortable conversation, and started elbowing a small path to the front of the-  _ Jesus, that rink is huge. _

A man in a bright green top hat decorated with the words “Fuck me, I’m Italian” and an array of glittery shamrocks stood in the center of the skating rink. He flipped around a mic stand, held together in the middle with silver duct tape, as he gave a few introductory words about the impending match. “Ladies, gentlemen, and other esteemed associates! As always, I am your dignified host, Racetrack Higgins, and I am ever so proud to introduce our fine competitors tonight.” 

Suddenly, the fluorescents above them went dark and Sarah grabbed Davey’s arm to yelp “I think it’s starting!” in his ear. He gave an less-than-enthusiastic thumbs up in mockery, but she was either too distracted to notice, or too excited to care- probably a healthy combination of both. 

_ When I Grow Up _ by the Pussycat Dolls started blasting through the speakers as a vivid pink glow fell around the rink, and Racetrack enthusiastically crowed, “Hide your claws, ladies, ‘cause we got the Hissin’ Kittens climbin’ all ‘round this rink tonight.” A woman dressed in a skimpy leopard costume and fading cat ears shot out of an entrance Davey hadn’t noticed beforehand, and the crowd went  _ wild. _ “Leading their fearless pack is none other than Nine Inch Nails, known for that mean hip check that’ll send you head over tail!” 

A group of college-aged kids that stood next to Davey and Sarah started to lightly boo the emcee’s attempted pun. “Pack it up, Higgins,” a considerably shorter boy managed to shout over the crowd. If Racetrack had heard them, he didn’t take any notice. 

After the Hissin’ Kittens had done their introductory laps, the pink go-go lights were quickly replaced with a harsh green filter as  _ Money, Money, Money _ from Mamma Mia began to play. “They’re mean, they’re lean, and they’re a capitalistic machine- that’s right, they’re the Wicked World!” 

If Davey thought the crowd was fond of the previous team, they were downright  _ obsessed _ with this one. The cheering echoed off the walls and created a deafening greeting for the team captain- “First out on the rink is the electoral college’s worst nightmare, Chief! Of! Skate!” A bearded man, considerably older than the rest of the pack whipping around the rink, skated out in what seemed to be a three piece suit. “Remember ta' register to vote, folks, to avoid a disaster like Chief’s empirical reign.” The rowdy group next to them began booing again, but this time directed at the man who suddenly ripped away the fabric to reveal tight athletic shorts (that left very little to imagination) and a tie still wrapped around his neck. 

“If he’s gonna keep that little number, I’ll find a way to throttle him with it!” A girl with flaming red hair shrieked over the noise. Her pack burst into laughter that garnered enough attention to get themselves flipped off by the Chief Of Skate as he passed them by- and it wasn’t in the friendly, “Fuck you!”-through-a-smile kind of way. 

Davey turned to Sarah, bemused at the more-than-revealing costumes this team was sporting. “I thought you were taking me to roller derby, not a Magic Mike show!” Fighting against the noise of the crowd, Davey practically had to shout, and a boy from the group over barked out a laugh. 

“Good one!” The boy winked, causing a warm flush to creep up the back of Davey’s neck. He looked familiar in a boy-next-door way, complete with scruffy brown hair and wide, excited eyes. The only thing that stood out was his rugged jean jacket, which had a large 18 roughly sewn onto the shoulder and a huge fist smashing into what  _ looked _ like the state of New York on the back. Davey barely had any time to think of an answer before the lights dimmed once more, and the referee pulled out a shiny metal whistle. 

“Let the games begin!” 

&&&

“Oh. My. God!” Sarah cheered for the hundredth time. “That was insane! Did you see the way that girl used her knee to just send that guy  _ flying across the whole rink? _ Or when the guy got up and was like ‘Hmm. I think I’ll punch you now.’ And then he  _ did! _ Oh my God!” 

They were standing in the merchandise line, of all places, after the game had ended. People were milling around the warehouse with suddenly procured alcohol that Sarah had pointedly avoided, bouts of cheering erupting as players came out, one by one. One wall was covered from top to bottom in grated racks promoting t-shirts and gear for the entire league of derby players, with team names ranging from the Derby Divas to Twisted Nipples. The most popular line was the Wicked World, who had just beat the pulp out of the Hissin’ Kittens with a final score of seventy-eight to forty-two. Davey could see buttons with Chief of Skate’s face on them, posters of their past games and plays, and even a pair of underwear that said  _ Kiss my Cash _ across the butt. “Subtle,” he chuckled, mainly to himself. 

Before he could register what was happening, Sarah was pulling him towards a booth and hissing  _ “Be elusive” _ into his ear. The girl with the red hair was standing behind the makeshift card table counter, aggressively folding some t-shirts while eyeballing the Wicked World’s line, but brightened as she saw the twins approach. “Hey, I dig the logo,” Sarah twisted a lock of her jolt-pink hair around her finger. 

“Thanks! Our captain designed it. He’s this total genius artist studying over at Marymount and he’s almost as good with his paintbrush as he is at throwing an elbow.” Her eyes sparkled with a subtle hint of pride before a boy came barreling out from behind the wall of grating. 

“You bragging ‘bout me, Kathy?” As he stood up, Davey recognized him as what he had now dubbed as ‘winking boy’. “Oh, hey! You’s the kid with the jokes!” 

Sarah snorted. “Davey? Hardly.” 

Davey dug an elbow into her side as he stuck out his hand in greeting. “I might be, yeah.” He watched awkwardly as the boy did some handshake Davey had no clue how to complete, and he finished it with an enthusiastic fist bump. “I’m funnier on Saturdays though, you just missed the mark.” 

“Cowboy, at you’s service,” the boy introduced himself. “Captain of the Knuckles of New York, where our darling Bee plays.” 

The previously named ‘Kathy’ wiggled her fingers in greeting, but Davey thought it looked more like she was trying to cast a spell. “My derby name is the Notorious B.I.T.C.H, but people call me Bee for short.  _ You,” _ she locked eyes with Sarah, “can call me Kath, however. Nice to meet you.” 

Sarah stuttered for a second as Davey watched a familiar red glow creep behind her ears. “S- Sarah! And this is my- David!” 

“Well, David. If you throw a hip as well as you jus’ did with your elbow, you should come try out on Thursday. The league is holding replacement auditions.” Cowboy quirked up an eyebrow, and Davey thought the sport far more appealing all of a sudden. “Here’s a…” The boy ducked behind the table, rooting around in a cardboard box. “Flyer. Bring you’s own skates, we have knee pads lying around if you don’t.” 

Davey came to his senses exactly a half-second before Sarah could snatch the flyer from Cowboy's hands. “Thanks, but uh. No thanks. We don’t skate.”

Almost immediately, the boy’s shoulders deflated and he turned to walk behind the grated walls, returning from where he emerged. Katherine watched him leave without so much as a goodbye, embarrassed for Jack’s lack of manners, and smiled at the pretty girl and her boyfriend (date? Brother? Friend? Good Lord.). “Well. If you change your mind.” Katherine slid Sarah a folded up flyer, winking as if they now shared a secret. Her impassioned lover rolled his eyes at the gesture but seemed unbothered by the flirting, which was either the mark of a perfectly healthy relationship or a very good sign for Katherine. 

As the girl with the shock of pink hair running down her back was forcibly turned towards the exit, she shot Katherine a  _ (devastating, ravishing, beautiful)  _ smile in apology. “See you Thursday!” Kathrine called out at their turned backs. 

The Notorious B.I.T.C.H had always been a big believer in unbeknownst faith. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my way of making it canon that sarah has a nipple ring  
> leave a comment and i'll make you a button with pulitzer's face on it!  
> follow me on tumblr, @/deafwestnewsies


	3. try to detect it!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roller World is mysteriously missing a pair of size seven and size ten skates, and Sarah drags Davey to roller derby try-outs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was longer than expected!

“You’re not going vegetarian,” Katherine finalized. 

“But  _ ma!” _ Jack whined, dropping his head on her shoulder as Katherine skillfully maneuvered their shopping cart around the tofu aisle. 

She snorted in disgust. “That joke is funnier in a world where we didn’t date senior year.” A bag of carrots was plucked off the shelf, and two onions quickly followed. Celery was added as an afterthought. “Listen. If you think you can manage to go a whole week of taking your iron pills  _ before _ and  _ after _ practice, we’ll go vegetarian. I’ll even learn how to grill tofu.” 

Jack was silent as they walked down two aisles of the grocery store.  _ A new record! _ Katherine victoriously cheered in her head. Finally, as he was pulling down a box of bowtie pasta, he threw his head back to whine again. “I’s hate them iron pills. How ds’ somethin’ taste like nickels and rotten tuna? Who the fuck invented that?” 

“I know you do, Cowboy.” Ignoring the nasty look shot from the mother herding her children away from Jack, Katherine gently steered him in the direction of the register lines. “Which is why we’re not going vegetarian. You’ll eat my hamburger helper or die at the cruel hands of fate- if you run and grab me a carton of eggs, I’ll let you pick out a candy.” 

“You know I’m not  _ actually _ you’s child, right?” Jack floundered for a second under Katherine’s haughty eye until he split back down the aisles. Grinning, she grabbed the closest tabloid and flipped through the biggest news in Hollywood-  _ hey, Emma Stone’s new tattoo looks kinda sick! _ Belly fat this, divorce court that. Why couldn’t a movie star do something interesting for once? As she put the magazine back, Katherine let her thoughts wander to the most pressing matter at the top of her list: Tonight’s try-outs, and whether that beautiful girl with the waist-long, rosy hair would be there. She hadn’t left her mind in six whole days, even invading a confusing dream about lions and her old high school, and Katherine was more or less determined to see her again. Even if it meant shouting descriptors about her in the middle of Central Park in the hopes that she’d hear. 

Jack came jogging back as she was laying the groceries out on the conveyor belt, and he dropped a packet of peanut butter cups down with a grin. “Hey,” Katherine ventured as they both reached for the can of tomato sauce, “do you remember those people we met at Friday’s match? The ones you invited?” 

“Riot girl and ‘er bitchy boyfriend?” Jack wrinkled his nose. “I guess, why?” 

“So you  _ do _ think they were dating,” Katherine let a small amount of hope deflate out of her chest. 

“Kathy, don’t go falling in love with no one you don’t know. Plus, he looked uptight as hell- he was definitely dragged there and wanted nothin’ ta do with us.” He put on a high-pitched, nasally voice.  _ “Thanks, but uh. No thanks.” _

“Card, please,” she told the cashier. “Thanks, uh…” The man’s name tag was on backwards and she had to stifle the urge to giggle. “Carl.” She turned back to Jack as the cashier punched in the codes on their coupons and rolled her eyes as he tore into the candy. “Fifty cents says they’ll be here tonight.” 

Jack snorted. “Week’s worth o’ dishes says they won’t.” 

&&&

They always warned him of the dangers lurking around every corner in the big city. 

The operative ‘they’ being his parents, of course. 

“ _ Bubbaleh _ , carry pepper spray just in case!” “Do you know how to use a knife?” “If someone held a gun to you and asked for your wallet, what would you do?” “Just a small swiss army knife! Just in case!” 

So clearly, he was kicking himself in the moments a stranger jumped him from behind as he was walking out of  _ Journalism and Print 001. _ No one ever tells you about the  _ during _ of getting robbed, just the blissful before and the harried after. Well, Davey Jacobs could now attest: It sucks. 

He scrambled as the strong hands gripped him from behind and practically lifted him off the ground before he tried to throw all of his weight over his shoulder. The attacker quickly released him after a shout of pain and pinched him, quickly, in the side. “Fuck off, Davey!” Robbers didn’t generally have high-pitched squeals of pain-

“Sarah! What the hell!” 

“Me what the hell?  _ You _ what the hell!” 

Thank God the quad was nearly abandoned, just a few loose students gathered here and there, one of which was snickering very clearly in their direction. “Why! Why?” Davey gave her his best withering look. 

“I was trying to surprise you, duh!” Sarah gathered her hair into a ponytail. “I brought you a gift!” 

Davey, however, had already noticed the two pairs of skates tied to the straps of her backpack. They looked pretty run down- both a dark blue with gray accents and the words “Roller World” printed on the sides. One of the stoppers was broken in half. “Did you… Did you  _ steal _ those?”

She looked down with surprise, as if it was novel that her brother had noticed the insanely clunky luggage she was dragging around. “Don’t worry about how I got them, just feel blessed by the Sarah fairy. They’re for tonight!” 

“Tonight?!” All thoughts of being tracked down and arrested by the NYPD fled Davey’s head. “Like, with the roller skating thing? No! No way!” 

“C’mon Davey! We both know how to skate, and it’d be good to get you out from behind your books every once and awhile!” 

Davey scoffed. “We got those rollerblades when we were seven, and Les used my pair more within a week than I ever did.” 

Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose as if Davey was the one causing  _ her _ trouble. “Listen. I didn’t want to play this card, but I will. I’ll tell Les about the boy on the steps of the library.” 

Davey’s blood ran ice-cold. If Sarah told Les about anything, their parents were bound to know within the week. (That boy was a horrible middle school gossip.) It wasn’t like their parents had a problem with him being gay or anything- they had known about Sarah for years, she went around kissing girls on the elementary school playground- but his mother was very worried about STDs. He wanted to laugh when she had first voiced her concerns.  _ Believe me, Mamma. I am the last one to get a sexually transmitted disease. _ “How do you know about Daniel?” Davey accusingly questioned. 

“Jesus, Dave. Daniel? David, Daniel, do you have a twelve apostles checklist I don’t know about?” Before he could answer, she slipped an arm around his shoulders and steered him towards her dorm. “How do you feel about glitter? Derby people wear a lot of glitter.” 

&&&

So he was wearing glitter. 

Just a little bit of it, a light blue streak across his collarbone that yeah, sure. Looked cool. Sarah had some hot pink dabbed around her waterline. Davey prayed to whatever God would listen: _ Please don’t let me fall on my face. Get me out of here alive and I’ll stop taking extra apples from the dining hall  _ and _ I’ll give my change to the bird lady.  _

They were all told to sit on the little carpet middle of the large, domineering skate rink. Sarah had made friends fast (unsurprisingly) and now had her legs slung over Davey as she chatted about being a fashion student with an older looking woman wearing an overstretched tank top. Surprisingly, everyone who had shown up looked about as normal as they come- some heavy eyeliner and short shorts, sure, but the crowd looked about what you would expect from a sports try-out. 

“Folks! My name is Chief of Skate.” The crowd went silent as the teams began rolling out, one by one. Leading the pack was the same man who had worn the strip-away suit at Friday’s match, except now he was wearing athletic shorts and a washed-out shirt for a random bar. All of the teams were only identifiable by their mish-match of matching gear, some with identical stickers on their helmets or similar colored wristbands. When they were in normal clothes, they all looked so… well. Normal. 

Davey pretended to not make eye-contact with the cute boy who had invited him here.  _ Cowboy _ . The nickname bounced around his brain like a lost ping pong ball. 

“...And we’re the Wicked World.” The man finished off. Down the line, team captains introduced their team quickly, and suddenly Cowboy stepped to the front. 

“Hi, y’all. I’m Cowboy, this is The Notorious B.I.T.C.H,” he gestured towards the girl Sarah had been fixated on. He could feel her squirm slightly where she sat. “And we’ve got Irish Cream”- a shorter boy with a fierce grimace- “and finally, Tits and Smash.” An even smaller girl stood on her tiptoes and waved cheerfully at the crowd. “We’s the Knuckles of New York.” 

As the rest of the teams introduced themselves, Davey found himself studying Cowboy. He had an incredibly refined face- strong jawline, bright, glittering brown eyes, lips with a perfect cupid’s bow. Warm, dark skin with a few scrapes and bruises dotting his arms. Hair perfectly tousled. A bead of sweat ran down his neck before the boy quickly wiped it away, fanning himself under the bright fluorescent lights. He was the type of man that the Greeks carved statues from. 

“So we’re going to start with a simple obstacle course. You’ll be going in a line, so there’s no need for any derby kisses just yet, folks.” Before Davey knew it, they were being herded to the beginning of a course constructed of mats and traffic cones. One by one, skaters were being sent down the course and an apathetic girl stood at the end with a clicking timer. Sarah winked at him before dashing between the first two cones, clearly remembering how to skate with ease, and finished the circle with impressive speed. Davey was next.  _ Please don’t let me eat shit. _

The whistle blew and Davey stalled on his feet for a moment.  _ Oh God. _ Before he could think about anything else, his feet took control and swept him past the cones, weaved him in between the stacked mats, and even cleared the little jump at the end! The girl popped her gum as he skated past her, the sound signaling his brain that he was out of danger’s way. His neurons stopped firing and his legs twisted, sending him to the floor in a heap. 

Sarah pulled him up without a second thought, and the tittering laughter from the other skaters stopped almost as soon as it had started. The only person not laughing was a younger looking boy who had been hopping around on an MD crutch- he was staring at Davey with an intense curiosity in his eyes. 

Davey didn’t have time to be embarrassed by the time the second event was being called out- “You’ll be matched with a member of a team, and your only goal is to make it around the rink. Easy as pie.” He shot Sarah a look of desperate horror, and she grinned with two thumbs up back. She was saddled against a man at least twice her height who took one look at the temporary “Mommy” tattoo on her bicep and rolled his eyes.  _ I’ll start volunteering at the library if you let Sarah live through this.  _

He could breathe as soon as the whistle rang out- Sarah shot in front of the man without hesitation and made it around the rink before he could think about all the ways a burly man could accidentally put his sister in the ICU. The hospital bills. The explanation to Mamma and Papa. Okay, maybe he had a second to think about it. Either way, she was safely on the other side, and a group of people with vaguely impressed looks were applauding her. 

Cowboy slid up next to him as the next pairing went (and the team member immediately smashed into the poor player) and Davey felt trapped in his gaze. He almost smouldered with intensity, which  _ what the fuck! Real people don't smoulder, that’s exclusively reserved for cartoon characters and the boys in his books! _ Cowboy’s eyes flickered down towards the smear of glitter on Davey’s collarbone and snorted. “Nice,” he said drily. 

Davey was thinking of a clever retort when the whistle blew and Cowboy shot in front of him.  _ No way, _ Davey thought.  _ What little dignity remains won’t be stolen by you. _ He streaked forward to catch up with the boy when Cowboy veered left with his shoulder sticking straight out, and he narrowly avoided the hit. Davey thought back to something the boy had said when they first met; “If you throw a hip as well as you jus’ did with your elbow…” He closed his eyes and hoped for the best as he threw his hip in Cowboy’s general direction, and a small grunt of pain alerted him of his success. Taking advantage of his momentary upperhand, Davey sped forward and closed the loop.

“That’s my boy!” Sarah cheered, punching him on the arm. “You totally got him with your hip, he almost fell off the rink! I knew being a bag of bones would help you one day!” 

“You owe me like, a week’s worth of coffee for coming.” Davey said, but his earlier resentful nature had mysteriously vanished. He felt… strong. 

Cowboy skated past the twins, making sure to lock eyes with Davey. “Good job,” he uttered before rolling down to the rest of his team. 

Somehow, it didn’t seem like a compliment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i forgot how much fun this AU is, hopefully i'll be more diligent!! eek!  
> leave a comment and i'll learn how to grill tofu for you.  
> follow me on tumblr, @/deafwestnewsies


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